


anchored, heavy

by amorekay



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Academy Era, Gen, Haphephobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Slash, Pre-Time Skip, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/pseuds/amorekay
Summary: Dimitri can’t remember a time when he’s left his room without gloves, armor, or gauntlets on— he can’t remember a time when he didn’t have gloves on, period, other than for necessity, and the sheer idea of it fills him with an incorporeal sense of dread.





	anchored, heavy

Every once in a while, it feels like he wakes suddenly from a deep sleep, a sudden extra jolt of awareness throwing Dimitri off-kilter as he’s pulling himself through the motions of everyday life. 

He’s awake and thrown now, as he hesitates with his gloves and gauntlets laid out on the desk in front of him, suddenly stumped in the middle of his normal routine. Dimitri can’t remember a time when he’s left his room without gloves, armor, or gauntlets on— he can’t remember a time when he didn’t have gloves on, period, other than for necessity, and the sheer idea of it fills him with an incorporeal sense of dread. He steps towards the door, hesitates again, fingers scrabbling up to his suddenly tight collar.

It’s two steps back to the desk to grab his gloves and pull them on, one after another, pulled flush and secure over his sleeves. The door slams behind him on his way out. 

At the training grounds there are two younger students he doesn’t recognize, most likely from one of the other houses, and Felix. Dimitri hesitates as he selects a lance from the racks beneath the awning, trying to observe Felix without being too conspicuous about it— unsure if Felix will simply storm out once he realizes he’s there. It’s been his usual reaction, and today, this too-awake day, the thought of it drops an anchor in Dimitri’s stomach. 

He squares off with a dummy, ignoring his uneasy gut, and tests the balance of the lance. After that, it’s easy to get lost in the rhythm of steps and thrusts. 

“Boar,” a sharp voice interrupts as he’s finishing a combo. “Train with me, if you’re going to be grunting so loudly around here.” 

“Oh! Felix.” He spins so quickly his lance thuds the side of the dummy accidentally. He’s pretty sure Felix scoffs. “Of course.” 

They move away from the dummies to the middle of the grounds and Felix steps light and quick around him, sharp eyes looking for any opening as Dimitri squares his stance and thrusts his lance into Felix’s path, blocking his step. Felix’s sword dances forward and they’re quickly exchanging a flurry of glancing blows, the blunted metal of Felix’s blade screeching whenever it slides across his lance. 

Dimitri keeps stepping forward, pushing him back, and finally sees his own opening as Felix’s shoulder dips and he gets a hard two handed blow across Felix’s chest that sends him sprawling to the ground. His sword clatters away and then it’s silent save for their heavy breathing, Felix’s bangs damp with sweat across his forehead from where he’s fallen. 

In a moment of madness, Dimitri tugs off his glove before offering his hand to Felix in assistance. His hand looks pale and exposed in the bright morning sun. The moment stretches fast and slow, moving in double-time with his pounding heart. Nothing happens, Felix still looking at the ground, and Dimitri coughs.

Felix looks up, sees his offered hand, and bats it away. He gets to his feet with a snarl and grabs his sword from where it fell, whirling on Dimitri and pointing the blade in his direction. “Again.”

Dimitri suddenly doesn’t feel like sparring, his glove clutched uselessly in his other hand, the iron of his lance cold against his bare fingers. 

“What, tired already?” Felix asks, dropping his stance. “Pathetic.”

For one wry moment, Dimitri admires the perceptiveness he so easily forgets Felix has. Felix, who he’s sure sees through him. Felix, who never lets him forget it. Of course, he thinks, Felix wouldn’t want his offered hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What,” Felix says, but Dimitri doesn’t look at him, gripping the lance tighter and collecting himself for a moment before heading back over to the racks. Pulling his glove back on after he’s returned his weapon is a relief. Felix hasn’t followed him, and he’s staring at Dimitri from afar with something written across his face— disgust, probably. 

Dimitri feels very tired.

He barely notices the walk back from the training grounds to his room, only the click of the door latch behind him reminding him he’s made it to his destination. His gauntlets still sit on his desk, in need of a good shine before he puts them back together. He passes by them, and the hastily scrawled class notes he’d been reviewing the night before, and sits on his bed. 

He doesn’t fall asleep, but he no longer feels awake.

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that Dimitri wears full-on armored gauntlets (and greaves) in his academy gear -- even at the ball! -- while the rest of the students have more typical school uniforms just... stuck with me. I imagine this takes place in the same universe as my other Dimitri/Felix fic, just, far before it.
> 
> also, i've now got a public twitter now @[amorekays](https://twitter.com/amorekays) and you can retweet this fic directly [here!](https://twitter.com/amorekays/status/1184609273960992768)


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